


The rainwater before closing

by slof



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Artist Yachi, Cold, F/M, Fluff, Osamu dumb, Osayachiweek, Rain, Tattoo AU, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27213721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slof/pseuds/slof
Summary: Yachi and Hanamaki are about to close up shop for the day. That is until someone walks in needing a little help
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Yachi Hitoka
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	The rainwater before closing

**Author's Note:**

> Florist/tattoo AU “I got these for/thought of you.”

The rain tapped down on the sidewalk, hit the window, but that didn’t bother the two in the parlor. They kept to themselves, waiting for the workday to be over with so they could suit up in their coats, pop out their umbrellas and head home for the day to a cup of hot chocolate. 

  
  


“Do you think you could finish off my sleeve?” 

Hitoka looked up from the magazine she flipped through, her brown eyes landing on the light brown haired man who sat on the counter a few steps away from her. She leaned on the surface next to the register. Her gaze flickered to his arm, the sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up as he looked down at it, the art almost filled with ink of branches and vines, flowers and leaves. 

“Is that how we’re going to spend our free time?” Hitoka asked, standing up straight as she folded the magazine close. 

“Why not?” He asked. 

“Because, Hana,” Hitoka began to say as she tossed the pack of papers under the counter. “What if someone comes in?”

Takahiro looked around the tattoo parlor. Empty. “You’re kidding, right?” He asked with a scoff. “Token, there hasn’t been a customer all day.”

“We usually do good,” she muttered sadly. 

“Yeah, but it’s a holiday tomorrow,” he said, sliding off of the counter. “People are a bit more focused on that then if they want to tattoo Grandma’s last words on their shoulder.”

“Hana!”

“Okay, maybe that was a bit too cruel,” Takahiro said. “But you get my idea.”

Hitoka glared at him. Soon enough, she sighed, and she looked to the clock on the wall.

“What do you want?” She asked. Takahiro jumped at the opportunity, moving to stand in front of Hitoka as he showed her the bottom of his hand. 

“Wouldn’t it be cool if, like, the vines went down the back of my hand and wrapped around my finger?”

“That would be cool—“ 

At the sound of a chime throughout the parlor, the two turned their heads to the doorway. A tall man stood there, grey hair and soft eyes. Hitoka was a bit taken aback to see someone there. It was shocking for a person to walk in this late, neither of them had expected it. Him being there was surprising, though most importantly of all, it was  _ how _ he looked to his clothes to his facial expression. 

His hair and outfitwere soaked, dripping onto the floor. He didn’t look too pleased, probably because not only was he soaking wet but it was cold outside. 

Instead of questioning it, like Takahiro was nearly about to do, his mouth already beginning to open to protest, Hitoka ran around the counter to him.

“Are you okay?” She asked quickly, ushering the stranger inside and closing the door behind him. “Hana, grab a towel, would you?”

Takahiro groaned, but he did as Hitoka asked him to and disappeared into the back room. 

“Are you alright?”

The man nodded.

“Can I get a name?” She asked softly, brushing his wet bangs from his face. 

“Miya Osamu.”

“Miya?” Hitoka asked for confirmation, and she felt a hand tap her shoulder. Glancing over her shoulder, a white towel was shoved in her face, and she thanked Takahiro before taking it from him. “Hana, you can head home.”

“Oh, so I leave you all alone with the ‘hot but cold’ guy?”

“Hanamaki.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” he quickly said. He grabbed his coat and slipped it on before heading to the door with his umbrella. With one eyebrow-raised glance to the stranger, Takahiro whispered, “Good luck,” before he opened the door to the parlor, popping out his umbrella before walking out the shop.

  
  


After Takahiro left, Hitoka turned to the stranger — Osamu. 

“I’ll get some hot chocolate on, okay?” Hitoka said, patting down the towel she had laid on his shoulders. She rushed to the back room, quickly moving to the small sink she had back there with a station for coffee and snacks. Sometimes tattooing was tiring. 

She cleaned out the coffee remains from the machine and poured water in it, slipping the pot on the hot plate before turning it on. With one peek to make sure the stranger was still there, he hadn’t moved an inch, Hitoka went to fetch another towel. 

Making sure it was clean and dry, Hitoka headed back to the room to Osamu. She placed it on his head, hesitant at first but after he didn’t move it resist at all, Hitoka fluffed the towel around his hair to dry it. 

“There,” she muttered, leaving it sat on his head. She pulled up a chair and sat in front of him. “So,” Hitoka began, “anything else you can tell me?”

Osamu’s mouth opened, but he stuttered, stammering on his words before he gave up and closed his mouth. His shoulders slouched, and he sighed. 

“It’s okay!” Hitoka reassured. “Y-you know where you live, right?” Osamu nodded. The closer Hitoka got to look at his face, the more red she realized it was. Rosy cheeks, puffy eyes like he had been crying. Maybe he had been crying, or maybe she was mixing up rainwater with tears. “Then I’ll get you your hot chocolate and walk you home.”

It took Osamu a second, but soon enough, he nodded. Hitoka took that as her sign, and she stood up, sliding the chair back where it belonged before heading to the back room where the water was heating up. She poured it into a foam cup she had. Sometimes some people who came in for tattoos liked to have a nice cup of coffee on their way out, and personally, her and Takahiro lived off of it.

Before leaving the back room, Hitoka flipped off the lights and closed the door behind her. She set the drink down safely on the counter to slip on her coat and grabbed the umbrella that leaned against the wall. Hitoka made her way to Osamu with the cup and handed it to him.

“Here,” she said with a smile. “Come on.” He slowly stood, and Hitoka reached up, grabbing the towels from off his shoulders and head before tossing them in the booth he had sat in. “I’ll take care of them later,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Let’s go.”

* * *

“So, you helped him home and he said nothing the whole time?” 

“Yeah,” Hitoka said with a shrug. “He seemed upset about something,” she added on while chewing her lip.

“Yeah, he was soaking wet,” Takahrio muttered. He sighed while tossing his jacket on his shoulders. Smoothing his hands down the front of his jacket, he let out a sigh. “I gotta go. Sorry, Token.”

“No, no! Go on, Hana!” Hitoka smiled. “I got it here. It’s a few days after a holiday,” she said. “Probably won’t be many customers anyway,” the tattoo artist added with a shrug.

“You’re amazing,” Takahiro said with a smile as he backed up toward the door. 

“Go on your date.”

“I am, I am.” He opened the door. “Thanks again, Token.”

“Hm-mm.”

  
  


Hitoka leaned on the counter, flipping through the magazine. She was wondering about another tattoo she could get. Hitoka already had many. Her and Takahiro had a lot of matching tattoos, mainly flowers or trees. She had vines that were like bands on her arms and one that around her foot like an ankle bracelet, a few flowers here and there, a branch that wrapped around one of her fingers like a ring, a four leaf clover behind her ear.

Though the artist was thinking of another. She was thinking maybe another flower, one on her hip. That wasn’t one she could particularly do herself — not if she wanted it to be good.

A chime pulled her attention, and Hitoka glanced up, eyeing the front door as a man walked in. He had his hands behind his back, which would normally make Hitoka nervous but he wasn’t a stranger. 

It was the dejected man she had walked home the other day in the rain, puffed face with tears and a mouth that only parted slightly to mumble to ‘thanks’ to Hitoka before he left to the apartment building. 

“Oh!” Hitoka said, closing the magazine. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” That was the first time Hitoka had heard him clearly speak. He was taller than how he appeared before, it was probably due to the sulking. 

As he approached the counter, he still had his hands behind his back. They remained there even as he stopped in front and stared down at the counter. 

“So,” he began to say, and Hitoka couldn’t help but laugh. She covered her mouth with her hand as her other one picked up the magazine and tossed it under the counter. “Don’t laugh at me. Haven’t even said anythin’ yet.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Hitoka said. “Carry on.”

Osamu sighed, and there was a light blush on his cheeks. It was a lot easier to notice when he wasn’t already pink from the cold and soaked in water. 

“Anyway,” he mumbled as he finally showed what was behind his back. Hitoka froze staring at it, watching as he pulled the bouquet of flowers from behind his back. “I wanted to thank ya, so I got these fer ya.”

Hitoka took the bouquet with both hands, slow as she accepted them. Her fingers brushed with his, and now, Hitoka couldn’t make fun of him for a flustered face. 

“Just — I showed up sayin’ nothin’, drenched an’ wet an’ probably ruinin’ yer floor a lil bit — sorry ‘bout that,” Osamu began to ramble on. “So I made this fer ya, ‘specially since ya walked me home after too—“

Hitoka laughed.

“What?” Osamu asked.

“Do you have an accent?” She asked.

“Yah, it gets real thick when ‘m real nervous, too.”

“You’re nervous?”

“Ya know yer gorgeous, right?” Hitoka made a small squeal noise, and she pointed her head the other way, hiding the face filled with embarrassment. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“No, no! It’s okay!” She quickly said as she looked back at him. “It’s fine. Thank you.” Hitoka smelled the flowers. “You said you made this?” She asked.

“Ah, yah,” Osamu said with a nervous laugh. “Ya know the flowershop down the road?” Hitoka nodded. His face had some color coming back to it, it seemed he calmed down from being nervous a bit. “That’s mine.”

“Seriously?” Hitoka asked. “That’s cool! You know a lot about flowers?”

Osamu nodded. “Yup. I can uh—“ He let out a chuckle. “I can show ya sometime if ya want?” The tattoo artist couldn’t help but smile. 

“I wouldn’t be against it.”

“I’m free tonight,” Osamu said. “Not to rush! Just wanted to letcha know ‘case yer—“

“Tonight works, Miya,” Hitoka cut off his nervousness with a laugh. “Around nine I can head down there?”

Osamu smiled. “Nine,” he repeated with a smile. He tapped the counter and began to back up toward the door. “See ya then?” Hitoka nodded, she flashed him a smile.

“See you then.”

  
  


Osamu left, and Hitoka’s eyes followed him even as he walked on the other side of the window before he disappeared down the street.

She had to tell Takahiro about this.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


End file.
